


Counterflood

by Farasha



Series: Any Port in a Storm [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Manipulation, Mention of Corporal Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Counterflood: To deliberately flood compartments in order to correct a listing ship.</i>
</p><p>The situation in Nassau has become complicated. The situation between Flint and Silver was always complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counterflood

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from 2.04. The beginning of this fic contains dialog lifted from the episode.

Keeping Silver close in the manner Flint had chosen might yet turn out to be a rash plan. Granted, he did prove to be a useful tool to disseminate necessary information among the crew. They no longer merely suspected their captain was fucking him, they knew with surety - the encounter in Flint's cabin had proven fruitful in that regard - and true to Flint's prediction, they believed Silver had his ear. Yet the tense business with Vane and the fort kept Flint occupied and Silver haunting the edges of the meetings, always tucked away in some corner or curled up on a chair like a wary cat. This time was no different; Silver sat on the sill of one of the stern windows, placing himself infuriatingly behind his captain. Perhaps he assumed that place unconsciously, or perhaps he knew what it would mean for Flint to allow a man at his back in front of company.

Given Silver's original reservations about it, Flint was mildly surprised that he laughed at his own expense when pointed comments were directed his way. Often, when a man came to piracy from a merchant or naval vessel, it took him some time to grow beyond the belief that any suspicion of sodomy would find him hanged or court-martialed, which provided their despoiler with some measure of power while the belief persisted. He himself had been far too furious to care what anyone thought of him, but had still used Miranda as a convenient excuse until he'd realized that most crews didn't give a damn. Flint had been glad to see Silver dispensing with such useless niceties, but now he found himself wishing for even that small modicum of control. Silver would have been easier to keep in line if Flint could leverage the secret over his head - although he was not sure he could bring himself to do that, not with this secret. Not that they'd had the opportunity for further encounters since the first.

The men in his cabin looked at him with mistrust, and even Hornigold seemed wary of his mood. He turned his focus to that rather than the feeling of Silver's eyes on the back of his neck. It wasn't until Hornigold and the rest of them left that Silver moved. "Can I assume when you say you'll go to the beach to make this appeal, you mean me?"

Thoughts of the impending conflict, of what could come if they remained this badly outnumbered, tired Flint enough that he didn't snap at Silver's droll tone. He merely turned his head to give Silver a wordless look out of the corner of his eye.

Silver pushed off from the sill and through the hammocks, not sparing a glance for the captain as he moved to leave the cabin. "All right then."

"Why do you think they went up that hill?" Flint asked, seized by the desire to have what Thomas had asked him for those years ago - he violently pushed all thought of Thomas from his mind. Silver was nothing like Thomas. Silver was at once opposed to his own nature and keenly intelligent, a combination that made him so cursed useful to keep close, and so dangerous at the same time.

"Beg your pardon?" Silver turned slowly, head tilted, the lean line of his body tensing like it did when Flint did something unexpected. Silver smirked, a flash of white teeth. "Sorry, are you asking my opinion?"

Flint did his best to convey with his silence what a ridiculous question that was, and how infuriating it was when Silver stretched out the moment merely to gloat.

Silver took a seat in front of the desk, slouching. "I suppose one could argue it's simple fear. Their fear of losing the fort being greater than their fear of Vane remaining in it." He paused, and his whole demeanor changed, the blithe tone shifting into something more thoughtful. Perhaps this was why Silver never stopped talking - he thought aloud. "But then again, it's possible this has nothing to do with the fort. Nor with Vane." Silver's blue eyes glittered as he sharpened on his point, and once again Flint was forced to notice what a good look it was for him. "Perhaps it's just them expressing their opinions of you."

Flint could not help but think of Vane's response. _The madman on the water._ "So you think they see me as the villain in this particular story?"

"I think that would explain their decision, yes." Silver looked at him like couldn't quite believe Flint needed him to say it.

"And you?" Flint asked, before he could stop himself. "What do you think? You see me as the villain here?" By his own admission Silver was wary of him, but Flint thought they'd come to a sort of respect beyond such simplified definitions.

The answer he received was slow, measured, the words drawn out in a way that told him Silver was choosing them very carefully. "I see you as the agent most likely of securing my share of the gold on that beach. As long as that remains true, I am not bothered in the least by any labels anyone else decides to affix to you."

Silver's words were so close to the same speech he'd given before that it was as if he'd been hit but the large swell of a storm wave. Receive the same answer often enough, and it started to sound like a practiced lie. That he still was not sure he could trust Silver wasn't a surprise, but in the midst of all else that had brought them by the lee since they returned to Nassau, this made him feel as if he were listing.

Something of Flint's unease must have showed on his face, for Silver's eyes grew hooded and speculative, sharpening on his captain. "Why?" Silver asked softly, leaning forward across the desk. Flint forced himself to meet Silver's gaze, refusing to back down. "What do you think about it?"

The question caught him off guard. "I'm sorry?"

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" Silver continued, leaning back in the chair with a quizzical tilt to his brows. "What they think?" He sounded startled by that conclusion, and Flint locked all the muscles of his face still in an effort to keep from reacting. Silver had the look of a man who tripped over a delightful surprise. "With the things you've done." He scoffed. "My god. It must be awful being you."

Flint's jaw clenched. He waited for the expression of realization, the look on Silver's face that said he knew his tongue had run away with him, the half-apology that would take the sting out of the words. It didn't come. Instead, Silver watched him with the tiniest hint of a smirk around his lips, showing Flint plain as day that he knew he'd hit a nerve and was remembering the advantage for the future.

"Time is short," Flint snarled, digging his fingers into the arms of the chair to keep from coming across the desk and wiping the smirk off Silver's face. "You'd better be off."

Silver shot him a look beneath his lashes that made Flint want to grab him in an entirely different way, then rose from his seat. Flint kept his gaze stony instead of giving into the temptation to glare at his retreating back, in case the man had any more parting shots in his arsenal. Silver ambled his way to the doors leisurely, and Flint's ire rose at his unhurried manner.

Silver closed the cabin doors.

"Silver, damn you! I'll have you over a barrel if you disregard my orders-"

"If that's how you want me," Silver said, with a distinctly flirtatious note of amusement. "Although, the gun deck is a bit crowded." He crossed the cabin again, and Flint pried his grip loose from the arms of his chair - the sensation of listing was stronger now, as Silver looked distinctly like he'd won the upper hand, and Flint had to do something to regain his balance.

"Now isn't the time for you to play the jester, and I won't have you distracting me," Flint said.

"Oh, am I distracting?" Silver asked, a grin plastered on his face. He rounded Flint's desk and hoisted himself up onto the edge. "I'm trying for the opposite. I'm trying to keep you focused on what's actually important."

"The gold," Flint said, spine stiff as a board. Silver's seat on the desk put him above his captain, and Flint found himself bristling at it.

"The gold," Silver confirmed. "Tell me - is this assault on the fort truly for the long-term benefit of Nassau, or are you doing it because you have a personal vendetta against Charles Vane?"

"It is always the gold that concerns you, and yet you profess time and again your confidence that I am the only man capable of getting it for you. Doesn't that necessitate that you trust my judgment?"

"No, you see, I believe you came into port, found your friend deposed and your enemy holding power over the island, and it wounded your pride," Silver said. "I believe you're in this to oust a man you dislike so that you won't be obligated to sit across Guthrie's table looking at him."

"You have a poor habit of not looking beyond the short term," Flint said. He had to set himself to rights before Silver realized how close he was to capsizing, how close he was to losing the advantage. "Think. I sail into port riding heavy on the draught, when Vane knows quite well the treasure I have been seeking. Can you honestly tell me that you think Vane would allow us to bring it to shore? Or do you, as I do, believe he will hold this ship hostage and demand the lion's share of it?"

"So it is personal," Silver said, his grin widening.

"And for your benefit as well, so I'll thank you to stop stalling, get down to that damn beach and do what I've asked." With anyone else, Flint would have been confident in his control over his expression, but this was Silver, who was too clever by half and struck for a perceived weakness unerringly. Flint needed him out of this cabin before he said something he regretted.

"In good time," Silver said, the second time he'd disobeyed his captain's orders in the past handful of minutes. "You're taut as an anchor chain. It wouldn't do for you to fly apart now - I need you thinking with all your faculties." He slid from his perch on Flint's desk, and before Flint could move or protest, Silver was straddling his thighs, his knees wedged on either side of Flint's hips. The chair creaked somewhat alarmingly, and there really wasn't enough room for this here, but nevertheless, having Silver pressed up against him sent a jolt of hot want through him, and he settled his hands on Silver's hips.

"There's a brothel full of beautiful women ashore, and yet here you are in my cabin, trying to seduce me," Flint said.

"Fishing for a compliment, captain?" Silver asked. The wood of the chair had to be digging uncomfortably into his knees, but he shifted his weight in Flint's lap and leaned in, his hair falling over his shoulders and his mouth inches from Flint's own. "Might I remind you that the proprietor of said brothel is someone I have crossed, and who would likely rather slit my throat as soon as I walked in rather than accept my coin?"

Flint grabbed for the back of Silver's neck and hauled him in, kissing him with all the force of a broadside. He didn't want to be reminded of why Silver was unwelcome in Nassau's whorehouse, nor did he want Silver thinking him vain and insecure enough to ask after himself. Silver opened his mouth on a shameless groan, rocking in Flint's lap. The position was too awkward to give them much friction, but the barely-there brush of clothed flesh inflamed Flint's blood, setting his pulse pounding. Flint sank his teeth into Silver's lip and relished the way Silver flinched and shuddered with equal measure. When Flint pulled away to rest his head against the back of the chair, Silver was breathing hard and grinning.

"At a time like this, when anyone could barge in with urgent news of the situation ashore, and you climb up here like my personal catamite," Flint said. "If that door opens while we're in the middle of it, I won't stop to spare your sensibilities."

"No one would dare barge into the captain's cabin, especially not while I'm in here with you," Silver said, that insufferable smirk still fixed on his face. "You wanted the whole crew to hear you fucking me while we were still at sea, so why the concern now?"

"I want to make sure that if you start something here, you'll finish it," Flint said.

"I've already started something I fully intend to finish," Silver said. His slender, nimble hands - thief's hands, Flint thought - pushed Flint's coat off his shoulders, then pulled his shirt over his head. Silver eyed the bared flesh of Flint's chest with a greedy light in his eye and made a low noise of appreciation in the back of his throat.

Flint fought the urge to scowl at him, knowing that any reaction Silver wrung out of him now would be taken as a triumph. "Still performing, even for an audience of one," he growled, pulling at Silver's clothes, eager to even the score.

"You think I'm putting on an act?" Silver asked, raising his arms obligingly for Flint to pull his shirt off and throw it aside. "Captain. Really. I haven't been that well-fucked in years, and I'm honestly looking forward to a repeat."

Once again, Flint had that sensation of listing, feeling off-balance under Silver's regard. He surged forward and bit the bared, smooth skin of Silver's collarbone. Silver yelped, and when Flint applied his tongue, another moan shivered from his throat. Flint's beard scraped over the skin as he slid his mouth across Silver's chest. He pressed Silver backward - the desk was close enough that Flint could lean him against the edge of it - and Silver scrambled to dig his fingers into Flint's shoulders and keep his balance.

"This is hardly comfortable," Silver complained, although he wriggled helpfully when Flint applied himself to the laces of his trousers. His cock was hard and flushed, and when Flint closed his hand around it to pull it free, Silver tipped his head back to bare the long line of his neck.

"You don't look like you care," Flint said. He couldn't take Silver's trousers off with the way he was kneeling in Flint's lap, but he could get them down far enough to work his hand on Silver's cock, firm but slow enough to have him cursing. "Are you going to beg for mercy again?"

"Hardly," Silver said, breathless but steady. "You think too highly of yourself."

Flint slid his other hand up Silver's back and pulled him in close again, fingers digging firmly into the bumps of his spine. "Perhaps I _should_ put you over a barrel," he said into the skin of Silver's neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse. "You've disobeyed a direct order twice. I could have you flogged for that. I wonder, could you hold steady for it or would I need the crew to lash you in place like a cabin boy?"

Silver's throat worked against Flint's lips, and Flint could feel a tremor go down his spine. "You'd have me flogged for that?" His voice was far from steady now, strained and cracking.

"I think you might like that idea," Flint said, and suddenly it was as if he'd let loose a counterflood, righting the list he'd felt since Silver found the crack in his defenses. He had the upper hand now, with Silver tense and wary above him, hips still making small, stuttering movements to thrust himself into Flint's fist. "I think you would make a pretty sight, bare-arsed and lashed down. I'd certainly have you crying mercy after two, perhaps three strokes. Ah - but you wouldn't be able to take the cat, not at first. It would be the cane."

"Fuck _you._ " Silver bucked, shoving his way out of Flint's lap onto unsteady feet. His cock hung free of his trousers - he held them up with one hand but didn't move to dress. His chin had a proud tilt to it, a look Flint hadn't seen on him before. One he liked.

"Oh, but weren't you the one who said 'if that's the way you want me?'" Flint pressed the palm of his hand over the cloth of his trousers, still covering his cock. He smirked at the half-wild look on Silver's face, something between fear and naked want.

"I also said it was a bit crowded on the gun deck," Silver said, flashing a grin that didn't have his usual swagger behind it. He looked ready to bolt at any moment, and Flint stood very slowly, moving like he would to avoid spooking a horse.

"So much for finishing what you start," Flint said, and settled his hands on Silver's waist.

Silver narrowed his eyes, his tongue swiping over his lips, and grabbed Flint's forearms, his trousers falling to the deck to bunch around his ankles. He stepped in and kissed Flint with greedy hunger. They strained against each other, Silver struggling to push Flint back down into the chair.

Flint huffed against Silver's mouth and pulled one arm free, tugging at the laces of his own trousers. The moment he was free of them, they pressed together, a fevered meeting of bared flesh. Flint grabbed at Silver's hips, sliding his hands around to the swell of his arse. With a grunt of effort and a startled curse from Silver, he hoisted him up long enough to sit on the edge of his chair, Silver straddling his lap once more, with considerably more room for his knees.

Silver stared at him, breathing hard, still wary from their earlier exchange. Flint wrapped his hand around both their cocks together, and Silver's throat bobbed in a swallow, his eyelids growing heavy and hooded.

"If you're planning on fucking me again," Silver said, and gasped raggedly when Flint twisted his grip, pulling the foreskin back with his thumb. "Flint, damn you, stop for a moment, I can't think."

A wicked grin curved across Flint's mouth. He looped his other arm around Silver's back, bringing them so close that their skin slid together, Silver's breath puffing into his mouth. "Perhaps I'd rather keep you here like this, giving you enough to keep you panting for me and not enough to satisfy."

Another of those full-body shudders went through Silver. "If you're trying to make me beg for you, it won't work."

"It worked last time," Flint said, and slowed his motions, loosened his grip, almost caressing now instead of tugging. "Or maybe I will have to fuck you."

"I wish you _would,_ " Silver said. He rolled his hips, but Flint kept his grip teasingly light.

"That sounded suspiciously close to begging."

"That was asking. But, as I was saying, if you planning on doing it again, let me loose for a moment."

Flint loosed his arm from around Silver's waist. Silver shifted back on his thighs and leaned down, fumbling for his trousers, one hand tight around Flint's bicep to keep his balance. When he came back up, he had a small, wax-sealed bottle and another of his bright grins. "I'd rather not walk out of here with a limp. Might reduce my effectiveness for your plans."

Flint took the bottle of oil from him and cracked the seal. "You were planning this."

"This? Now? If I were planning, I would have planned somewhere that isn't so hard on my knees."

"You complain entirely too much," Flint said. The position was awkward, but Flint had no desire to stop and find some place more convenient, not when Silver was already over him like this, legs spread over his thighs. Flint poured a generous portion of the oil on his fingers and settled it precariously on the arm of his chair. He wasted no time pressing one of his slick fingers into Silver's body.

Silver's face was a remarkable sight, his expression slack, lips parted. It was so much better than having him bent over - this way, Flint got to watch his clever smiles and mocking looks dissolve into half-lidded eyes and an open, panting mouth. Perhaps this was the closest Silver ever came to telling the whole truth. Flint pushed another finger into him and spread them open. Silver rocked back into it shamelessly, eased open much quicker than the last time with the slick of the oil.

Flint twisted, pushing deep, curling his fingers, and Silver tipped, bracing himself against the back of the chair with one arm, his other hand still locked around Flint's arm. Flint steadied him with a hand on his waist, letting Silver rut forward and push back. He was loose and slick enough now, and Flint withdrew his fingers, groping for the oil. By some miracle he managed to close his fingers around it without tipping it onto the deck, and he hoisted Silver higher in his lap to fist his cock, slicking it and gripping the base to line it up.

"Ah, fuck," Silver breathed, and sank back slowly, tight flesh surrounding Flint's cock with heat like a furnace. "Yes, that's - that's it."

Flint kept one hand on his back and the other on the cheek of his arse, guiding Silver down until he was fully seated. He seemed content to sit there, breathing heavily, spread open and full. Flint shifted, but found that perched on the edge of the chair as he was, he could not drive into Silver without upsetting them both onto the floor.

He could mouth at the hollows of Silver's collarbones, and Flint swept over them with broad strokes of his tongue and the sharp bite of teeth, scraping his beard on the smooth skin. Silver's hips made small, hitching motions, grinding in place rather than truly moving. Flint sucked on the hollow of Silver's throat, flattening his tongue there. Silver groaned and clenched down, tightening on Flint's cock in a way that had Flint's eyes closing and his spine arching.

"Damn you, John," Flint said, strained. "Move."

"I think I like having you beneath me like this," Silver said, but despite the jab, he flexed his thighs and lifted up before driving back down again. "Besides - it's not - precisely fair - that you can call me 'John' - but you won't let me call you - anything but 'Captain.'" He stuttered the words out between deep breaths and short moans, fucking himself on Flint's cock in earnest.

"Maybe I like hearing you call me 'Captain,'" Flint said. He couldn't thrust properly, but he could rock with the rhythm, Silver's cock sliding against the sweat-slippery skin of his belly. The pace Silver set was slow and deep, the most he could manage the way they were tangled together. Flint slid his palm up Silver's spine, spreading his hand out to brace him, and worked his other hand between their bodies to wrap it around Silver's cock again. He tugged firmly this time, not caring to keep with the pace, and Silver lost words entirely, bucking like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to thrust into Flint's grip or keep riding his cock.

Having him like this, sweaty and moaning and moving above him, drove Flint to the edge quicker than he might like. He gritted his teeth, the tendons in his neck standing out as he strove to hold himself back. The sound of skin on skin was loud in his ears, and the noises Silver was making buzzed in his chest, and against Flint's forehead where it laid on the top of Silver's breastbone.

"Going to come," Silver said breathlessly, and Flint spread his knees just a little wider, wide enough to give him sharp, shallow thrusts, the wood of the chair digging into the backs of his thighs. Silver yelled, his body spasming and shivering as his cock spurted all over their skin.

Flint bit the side of his tongue and grabbed for Silver's shoulders. The hand that had been around Silver's cock left a smeared, sticky trail across his skin as Flint pulled him down hard with a low groan, his cock pulsing and spilling inside him. Flint settled back into the chair with Silver lying on his chest, both of them languid, sticky, and catching their breath. His head felt clearer, and the off-balance feeling was truly gone. He stroked his palm down Silver's spine, fingers lingering on every bony bump. Silver pried his fingers loose from Flint's arm and swept his palm over the bruises like an apology.

"All right, let me up," Silver said. "You may not mind it if someone walks in on us, but I do."

Flint had to help lift him off, as Silver's legs were somewhat shaky, and it took some fumbling before he had him set back on his feet. Flint sprawled back in his chair, knees still spread wide, unconcerned by the mess he was splattered with. "You do," he said, with the same gleeful air of discovery that Silver had earlier. "You don't mind it if they all know, but you don't want anyone but me to see you like this."

Silver's face closed off and his blue eyes went flat and wary again. "I would not like to be watched," he said shortly.

"I have no desire to put you on display," Flint said. "But I _will_ have you flogged if you disobey me again. I will simply wait for the late watch, when the men are abed."

That won him a sharp intake of breath from Silver, and though his cock was spent, Flint saw it give an interested twitch. "You weren't complaining about my insubordinance when it had your cock up my arse," he said, and under it Flint read a promise that there would come a time near in the future that he would have to make good on his threat. Silver sorted out his clothes, not bothering to clean up. When he had laced up his trousers, pulled on his shirt, and stamped his way back into his boots, he gave Flint a mocking salute, pushing the edges of disrespect.

Flint reached up and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric. "Don't forget - Vane is as much of a threat to your interests as he is to mine," he said. "No distractions."

Silver's eyes traveled over Flint, naked and sprawled on the captain's chair, covered in sweat and oil and come, and met Flint's once more. His smug grin spread across his face and a familiar, greedy light came into his eye. "Aye, Captain." He curled his fingers around Flint's and pried his grip loose, stepping out of reach and strolling out of the cabin with a swing in his step.


End file.
